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I will rip that cunt to shreds with my hands and teeth.
I'm beyond rage, beyond fury. I’m past the point of no return.
I am fury incarnate. I am the embodiment of revenge. I am death.
My heart thump-thumps in my chest as a buzzing sound fills my ears like a swarm of bees.
Grabbing a steak knife from the table, I make a run for it, only to be grabbed by one of the Skulls from behind. He catches me off guard and manages to get me to the floor, kicking me in the stomach. I barely have time to react when a shot rings out and the Skull goes down, half his face blown off. Flesh, blood and bone splatters across my body, but I don’t fucking care about that.
"Cunt!" I roar, jumping up and looking around me wildly.
Across the hall I spot Jakub, his gun pointing in my direction.
"Go, I'll cover you!" Jakub shouts as he shoots at another Skull stumbling towards me, puke drooling from his mouth.
I fucking run.
Barrelling through Soren's men, I slash as many as I can with the steak knife, dodging others as Jakub fires shot after shot. Some hitting home, some narrowly missing me. The danger barely registers. I don't give a fuck about anything other than reaching Cyn.
I'm only metres away when Soren throws off the woman on his back, landing a backward kick to her stomach. She crashes back to the floor, a scream parting her lips as she curls into a ball on her side, but I don't have time to help her, not when Soren's hands tighten further around Cyn's throat. I hear her desperate gasps for breath, her skin flushing a darker red, her eyes bloodshot from the pressure. I see the fear and horror in her eyes as death approaches.
Soren’s so fucking busy trying to strangle the woman I love, he doesn't know I'm coming.
He has no fucking idea.
Until I'm upon him.
With a fierce, primal roar of rage, I stab the bastard in the side, plunging the blade deep, feeling it pierce flesh, muscle and organs. I don't stop there, I thrust the knife into him again and again anda-fuckin-gain, until his grip loosens and he drops to his knees clutching at his ruined stomach as blood gushes from his belly, the blade in my hand slick with the stuff.
I drop the knife, knowing he'll be dead in minutes, and reach for Cyn, pulling her away from him. She gasps for air, her knees buckling as she crumples.
"Cyn!" I cry, catching her in my arms, holding her close as she chokes and coughs, tears sliding down her cheeks. “We’re here, we’re here. You’re safe now.”
I hear myself saying the words having no idea if that’s true, trusting that my brothers, that The Masks, and Beast and Connall are dealing with the rest of this fucking cult. Hoping and fucking praying they’re okay too.
“Carrrrr,” she croaks out, lifting her trembling hand, sliding her broken fingers into my hair.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” I whisper, my thumb gentling over the deep purple bruise on her cheek. Our eyes meet, my vision blurring with tears, and I know that I will spend the rest of my life doing everything in my power to heal her wounds. To give her a place of safety and love.
Cyn's lips move, but the sound that releases from her lips is cracked and brittle. It doesn’t matter though, I understand what she’s trying to say.
You came.
“Always. No matter what. We’ll always find you.”
The words barely leave my mouth before a loud, heart-wrenching scream pierces through the air. I look up to see the other woman who tried to help Cyn staggering to her feet, her robe pulled up over her waist, revealing a river of blood streaming down her bare legs and pooling on the floor beneath her.
"Noooooooo!" she screams, clutching her stomach, her face twisted in torment as she collapses to her knees. “My baby’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone.”
Cyn thrashes wildly in my arms, desperate to break free and reach the woman. Even in her frail state her instincts are to help, but even I realise that there is too much blood and no way to stop it. Regardless, I carry Cyn to her, knowing that she doesn't have the strength to move on her own. I don’t know who this woman is, but given the grief spilling from Cyn’s lashes, I know she’s important to her.
A fractured sob escapes Cyn’s lips as I drop to my knees and she reaches out to take the woman's hand, desperately trying to form words, but they come out broken, shattered.
"Don't cry for me,” the woman murmurs, a deathly hue shadowing her features.
But Cyn does cry.
She sobs and sobs and sobs, doubled over, wracked with pain.
